In a brief while Lu told all, and begged the aid of these three chiefs for Bove Derg, and not for Bove Derg only, but for the honour and safety of Erin.
Kian and Ald and Art were wroth with the high king.
“The first duty of a king is kinglihood,” said Kian.
“And without deathless courage a king is dead,” said Ald.
“And without sleepless eyes a king is a sluggard,” said Art.
“A king should be to all men what each man would fain be to himself,” said Lu. “My father Kian says well: the first duty of a king is kinglihood. But since Nuadh of the Silver Hand is fain to rest at ease in his dun, under the safe shadow of Tara, so let him rest. We are men, and must act.”
Therewith all took counsel, and while Lu rode westward, to raise all whom he could to succour the men of Connaught, Ald and Art rode southward.
“I shall go north,” said Kian.
“Why so?” asked Lu, knowing that it would be best for his father to go eastward.
“The wind bloweth that way,” answered Kian lightly. But truly enough none knew that in that answer and in that riding northward, was the beginning of the long and dreadful tragedy of which, for generations thereafter, the bards sang as The Fate of the Sons of Turenn.